


You're the heat in my bones

by illuminatedcities



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminatedcities/pseuds/illuminatedcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had expected Harold to be careful and polite, all restraint and courtesy, and as usual, he surprises her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the heat in my bones

John is the first one to leave, nodding his head at Zoe. She gives him a knowing smirk, something unspoken passing between them before John closes the door behind him. 

 

Harold takes his coat and hat from the hook on the wall.

 

“I assume I should thank you for your help, although I feel like I just played a twenty-four hour chess tournament,” Harold says dryly. “And blindfold chess, too.”

 

Zoe chuckles.

 

“You were holding your ground quite well for someone who doesn’t argue with people for a living. Maybe you’d have a future negotiating difficult situations.”

 

Harold gives her a doubtful look.

 

He’s much more of an enigma than John is to her: She can read everything about John in the tight line of his mouth, the too-gentle expression is his eyes that has not quite been trained out of him.

But Harold? Harold with his armor of tailored suits and his bright, intelligent eyes is a different game entirely.

 

“Also I’d think that it would take more than a little debate to tire you out,” Zoe says.

 

She leans back against the desk with her hip, straightening her spine and showing off the line of her dress smoothing over the shape of her body. Zoe knows what she wants, and she isn’t shy about asking for it, but she can tell that Harold will require some subtle persuasion, and that an outright question might scare him off. 

 

Harold pauses, looking at her with an intent, curious expression before his gaze strays down to the way the fabric clings to every curve of her body. 

 

“I suppose I don’t have to return immediately,” Harold allows.

 

Zoe pushes herself away from where she was holding on to the desk and walks over to him. 

 

“I suppose you don’t,” Zoe says, the corner of her mouth curling upwards in amusement.

 

She’s taller than him even without the advantage of heels, but Harold doesn’t seem to mind. He tilts his head a little to the side, considering.

 

“I hope you didn’t take my reluctance earlier as dismay at your presence. We had to endure some losses lately, and everyone who gets involved in our particular business is in danger right now.”

 

Zoe gives him one of her real smiles.

 

“Are you worried about me, Harold? I’m flattered.”

 

“John isn’t the only one who can appreciate your company, Miss Morgan,” Harold says, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think that his mouth is curving into a smile.

 

“I don’t know if “appreciation” is the word you’re looking for,” Zoe says. 

 

“Oh, he seems very appreciative to me,” Harold says, taking a step closer. “And with good reason.”

 

He reaches out to brush her curls away from her face, just the barest hint of touch, and Zoe could never resist an enigma. 

 

She pushes the coat off his shoulders, and Harold lets her, lips soft and unresisting under her mouth when she leans in to kiss him.

 

–

 

She had expected Harold to be careful and polite, all restraint and courtesy, and as usual, he surprises her. 

 

He places kisses on her back where he pulls the zipper of her dress down, his mouth already on her collarbone and throat and breasts when she finally pulls him down to her. 

 

Zoe barely has him out of his shirt before she feels herself shudder just from the way he touches her, clever fingers coaxing her along, and when she had wanted the challenge before, the thrill of it, now she moves against him with urgency, a sudden, unexpected desire.

 

Harold is a skilled kisser, reacting to every subtle shift in her, and she doesn’t remember enjoying herself so much just lying on her back being kissed, her hands running over his back, up to the short hairs in his neck.

 

He is cataloguing her reactions and repeating what makes her sigh and squirm against him, and as much as Zoe admires his work and devotion, she takes his hand and guides it between her legs, feeling rather impatient just about now.  
Harold smiles against her mouth, a real, unguarded smile that makes him look about a decade younger.

 

“Is there something you need, Miss Morgan?” Harold asks with an innocent expression.

 

Zoe glares at him, her thighs trembling where he is not quite touching her.

 

“I made up my mind, I like John better than you,” she says.

 

Harold looks amused, almost playful, but he does slip his thumb between her legs where she is already wet, circling her clit in maddening, slow movements, dipping his fingers inside and letting her rock against him. 

 

Zoe lets herself fall back against the pillow, pushing her hips up against his hand. Of course he would excel in this as well, she thinks to herself, easily finding the spot that makes her moan and throw her head back and shiver all over. When her orgasm subsides, she blinks up at the ceiling, stunned.  
Harold opens his mouth to say something, except she stops him at the first word.

 

“If you’re going to call me “Miss Morgan” again after what you just did to me, I will kick you,” she says. 

 

Harold raises his eyebrows at her. 

 

“Zoe,” he says, as if trying on the word for size. 

 

She manages to sit up on her elbows, looking at where he is just sitting there, content to let her take a moment, apparently not as much interested in his own pleasure as hers.

 

“God, and I thought John was smug,” she says, leaning over to fish a condom out of her handbag next to the bed.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Harold says, sounding carefully neutral about it, but a little red light flickers to life inside of Zoe’s head.

 

She leans back, still watching him, and makes a “come hither” motion so he is on top of her again, bending his head as far as his limited range of motion allows to kiss her throat. 

 

“So the two of you never…?” Zoe asks, with all the nonchalance she can muster.

 

If Harold reacts to that, he doesn’t show it. He sucks at a sensitive spot on her neck, just the barest hint of teeth, and her eyes flutter shut. Distraction technique, probably.

 

“The opportunity never presented itself,” Harold says.

 

“I highly doubt that,” Zoe says, “If you’re interested, surely you could figure something out.”

 

He runs his thumb over her nipple and she makes a low sound of appreciation, not deterred from her line of questioning.

 

“Are you interested?” she asks, pressing the condom into his hand.

 

Harold looks up at her, as if he is considering the question. His pupils are dilated, his breathing so quick he’s nearly panting, and Zoe thinks it’s either the heat of the moment that shocks him into honesty or an inability to lie about it.

 

“I am,” Harold says, licking his lips as if the thought itself gives him physical pleasure.

 

“You’d enjoy it, too, John is very good,” Zoe says, her voice almost a purr, and Harold’s hand shakes where he reaches down to put the condom on himself. “Always so eager to please.”

 

Harold pushes into her, and Zoe is distracted for a moment, her hips snapping up to meet his before she can catch her breath again.

 

“He likes to be held down, too, hands on his wrists, tightly enough to leave marks,” Zoe continues, and Harold shudders against her, his rhythm speeding up. “I fucked him with a strap-on once, he looks very pretty begging for it,” Zoe says.

 

Harold thrusts twice before groaning low and deep, and she reaches between them and presses down against her clit with two fingers, another orgasm hitting her, tingling all the way down to her toes. 

 

She had expected some awkwardness, later, but Harold does the cleanup without unnecessary fuss and turns off the lights before coming back to bed, curling up beside her. 

 

Zoe considers leaving for a moment, but she is too boneless and spent to move, and she feels surprisingly comfortable where she is.

 

Harold leans in to kiss her again, deeply, languidly. 

 

“Maybe we should invite John to join us, sometime,” Zoe says.

 

Harold kisses the inside of her wrist.

 

“Maybe we should,” he says.


End file.
